Title: Depth of Field
        Author: *kee
        Email: starkee@another.com
        Webpage: http://dae.slashcity.net/~starkee
        Category: WIP, 
        Pairing: Angel/Methos, and Gunn/Wes, eventually.
        Spoilers: Angel up through the ep where they get fired and everything 
        for Highlander: the series 
        Summary: First part of a planned series, in which Methos stumbles onto 
        Angel Investigations, sans Angel.
        Rating: G, for now

        Disclaimer: okay, so they don't belong to me except in my rich fantasy 
        life where i ride around on a pony and live in a castle. Besides, i 
        already owe the government enough money to have a really nice car or a 
        small house, honestly would it really be worth it to sue me?

        Notes: okay, so i orginally posted the first part of this story only to 
        methos slash and angel cross over slash becasue while wes and gunn were 
        in it, i didn't think at the time they were going to have a thing. Wes 
        let me know i'd been mistaken when i went to write the second part, so 
        i'm posting both to this list. now, i don't normally post stories in 
        parts, but i really, really like this and figure that if i post i might 
        be more inclined to get this done faster. that's the plan anyway. thanks 
        to sherry who beta'd the first part and zz who did a great job on the 
        second part. more to come eventually.

        ***

        Methos carefully set up his tripod and settled his camera gently in its 
        proper place. He looked through the small window at the breathtaking 
        scene before him, adjusting the focus and positioning to capture the 
        beauty of the view. Straightening from his stoop, Methos took a step 
        back to survey the setting before him. Many wouldn't see the inherent 
        grace of the empty, pre-dawn streets of LA, but then, most hadn't lived 
        as long as he had. Satisfied with his choice, he gently depressed the 
        button to allow the camera to begin its long exposure.

        Taking a deep breath, Methos looked through the camera again, taking 
        care not to move the sensitive piece of equipment while it was 
        processing. Yes, it would turn out nicely. The faint light of the almost 
        morning would highlight the texture of the cracked sidewalks and the 
        dilapidated building. 

        He enjoyed his new life as a photographer. It was low profile enough 
        that he didn't have to worry about the random and occasional head 
        hunting immortal, but his photos were popular enough that he no longer 
        needed to live as Adam Pierson had. His new persona could afford some of 
        the nicer things in life and had a much better reason for carrying large 
        cases with him everywhere. It also gave him the excuse to wander pretty 
        much wherever he wanted under the guise of looking for the perfect shot. 
        He started to feel jumpy if he stayed in one place too long these days.

        The sound of a footfall behind him caught his attention and Methos 
        turned. If someone stepped in front of the camera or moved the tripod 
        now, the shot would be lost and the lighting would change too much for 
        him to get it back this morning. "Could you find another way, please?" 
        he asked politely.

        A young woman with short black hair looked past him down the empty 
        street. "Why?"

        Methos stepped aside revealing his tripod. "I'm trying to make this 
        shot. If you could?" He gestured around to the next street. "Or if you 
        really need to go this way, I'll be done in about," he checked his 
        watch. "Another five minutes or so."

        Approaching him, the young woman looked curiously through his lens. "I 
        do need to go this way, but I guess I can wait. I work down at the end 
        of the street."

        Methos turned and looked, he'd thought this section of the city wasn't 
        in use. "Interesting area." She didn't look like the type of person who 
        would be working in this kind of area either. But then again, 
        appearances could be deceiving.

        The young woman shrugged. "It was cheap. I'm Cordelia."

        "Cavan." Methos nodded. The name no longer felt odd on his tongue and he 
        could easily fall into Cavan Greyman's persona now.

        Cordelia looked at him for a moment, her gaze shifting between the 
        camera and him a few times before a smile lit her face. "Cavan Greyman? 
        I love your work. You're taking pictures of LA? Is there going to be a 
        showing here? I didn't hear anything. Have you considered photographing 
        people, because I do a little modeling on the side you know."

        "Who doesn't in this town?" Methos said lightly, smiling at the 
        enthusiastic young woman. "I prefer not to work with living subjects at 
        this point, but I'll keep your offer in mind. However," he added at her 
        disappointed look. "I would love to see where you work, the inside. It 
        would make an interesting companion piece to this shot."

        "Wow, our agency in Cavan Greyman's next show. How exciting!"

        Methos checked the camera, it would turn out nicely. He couldn't have 
        asked for better lighting. "How many people are in your agency?" It was 
        one of the reasons he'd chosen to be a scenery and landscape 
        photographer. He wanted to spend some time away from people. After 
        MacLeod had walked away from everything, from him three years ago now 
        he'd had no reason not to start again. While he still kept in contact 
        with Joe, he owned the mortal that much at least, he'd dropped nearly 
        all other associations from his life as Adam Pierson. And as Methos.

        "Oh, there are just two others, Wesley and Gunn. They'll be in later."

        "Not much of an agency." The camera clicked off and Methos began 
        breaking down the equipment.

        "We're growing." Cordelia straitened her shoulders defensively. 
        "Besides, we recently had a bit of a setback. One of our partners 
        decided to...leave."

        Looking over his shoulder at the girl, Methos noticed the hesitation 
        with which she spoke. There was quite a bit more going on than she was 
        telling. "What is it exactly that you do?

        "We help the helpless."

        ***

        Angel held the blade balanced in his hand, letting the weight of the 
        metal blend with his hand and feeling it meld with the movements of his 
        arm. He swung the weapon through a series of short, controlled moves as 
        he practiced against an invisible opponent. He was getting better, 
        better than he had ever been. But it wasn't enough.

        It was quiet in the hotel now. Now that he'd sent the others away. They 
        couldn't be here for what was going to happen. They were a distraction 
        and would end up hurt in the end. That couldn't happen, so he'd sent 
        them away.

        He felt distanced inside, almost empty, but full at the same item. It 
        was as though in letting the small part of himself out that he'd kept 
        caged for all these years he'd thrown himself off and he was having 
        trouble adjusting. It felt good on one level to have this freedom, to 
        let the bad in the world take care of itself. He'd liked knowing Darla 
        and Dru would kill the Wolfram and Hart associates. 

        A small part of him had also liked setting them both on fire.

        It was hard to reconcile those feelings, hard not to feel guilt and 
        remorse. But he didn't have room for those things now. Not with what was 
        coming. He would have to be prepared and he could allow himself the 
        distraction of feelings. Good or bad.

        ***

        The room was perfect. A beautiful blend of lights and shadow, a mixing 
        of new and old. He'd agreed to come to the office because he'd not 
        wanted to disappoint Cordelia; it seemed he could still be suckered into 
        things by a pretty face. But it'd turned out far better than he'd 
        expected. The place would actually make a wonderful addition to the shot 
        of the street outside.

        "Are you sure you don't want to add the human element to the shot?" 
        Cordelia asked as she perched on the edge of her small desk. The other 
        two members of the agency had finally come in and both tried to hush.

        He favored the enthusiastic young woman with a smile. "I might make an 
        exception. You've been very patient with my work." He'd kept them tied 
        up-- not literally of course, he'd outgrown that phase centuries ago-- 
        for the better part of two hours. Even though the office seemed a little 
        showy, he knew he was keeping them from their work.

        "It's no problem really. The publicity we could receive from this might 
        help to keep us going for a little while longer." Wesley leaned back in 
        his chair, obviously relieved that he hadn't taken offense at Cordelia's 
        persistence.

        "So what exactly happened to your other partner?" He'd heard almost 
        everything else they'd had to say about their agency other than what it 
        was they did exactly and what had happened to their fourth partner.

        A sudden stillness overtook the room and Methos casually continued 
        setting up shots pretending not to notice the exchange of glances and 
        the uncomfortable atmosphere. Clicking another shot, Methos assumed an 
        absent-minded expression and turned back to the group. "Oh, I'm sorry. 
        That was very rude of me, wasn't it? Forget I asked." He waved them all 
        to stand up. "Gather together over there by the desk. Cordelia, you stay 
        were you are. Wesley, stand to her left, yes there. Gunn," he paused and 
        considered the young man with his striking eyes. "I think I'd like you 
        on one knee in front of the two of them." He looked at the picture the 
        trio made and smiled. "Now Wesley, put your hand on his shoulder." He 
        liked the picture the two of them made together, maybe they'd let him do 
        a few shots of them together.

        And then maybe he could remember that he didn't do people and he would 
        likely be on the other side of the country if not the world next week. 
        Honestly. He was trying not to get involved in things for a while.

        He snapped the first shot and thought it might be good to capture a few 
        more when a look of pain twisted Cordelia's face and the two men were at 
        her side, supporting her in an instant. It looked as though this was 
        something they expected and had dealt with on more than one occasion.

        "Cordelia?" Wesley held her arms and helped to settle her onto a chair. 
        Gunn looked over his shoulder at Methos as though the young man didn't 
        want him to witness what was going on.

        "Does she need assistance, should I call someone?" Methos pulled out his 
        cell phone. He didn't actually use it that much, but it kept up 
        appearances and there were some really great games available on it.

        "No, no, she's prone to severe-" Wesley looked to Gunn for assistance, 
        "-headaches. We've dealt with them before. I'm sure she just needs some 
        rest perhaps we could continue this another time."

        Methos curbed his initial instinct to find out what was happening. It 
        really wasn't his concern, it shouldn't matter that these people were 
        hiding something and lying to him. It wasn't as though he were entirely 
        truthful either. "If you're sure I can't help." Methos began packing up 
        his things knowing the others wanted him out as quickly as possible. 
        "I'll call you about the pictures."

        "No," Cordelia called sharply, stopping him.

        "I'm sorry?" His question was echoed by the other two men, both sounded 
        far more surprised than he was.

        Cordelia seemed to have come out on the other side of her attack and was 
        sitting under her own control. "You can't leave. It was about you." She 
        looked at Wesley and Gunn. "We need to tell him, I think this is really 
        important."

        Wesley rubbed a hand across his mouth. "Are you certain that's wise?"

        "Would some one like to tell me what's going on please?" Maybe he really 
        didn't want to know after all.

        "You can't go because you're in trouble. Or you will be." Gunn stepped 
        aside and offered him a chair. "You might want to sit for this."

        Cordelia was shaking her head and Methos felt like he'd just walked in 
        on something that might have been better left alone. "No, he's not. Not 
        really. This one wasn't a vision. It was different, like, like a 
        personal message from The Powers That Be."

        Methos took the seat that was offered, sitting heavily. "What do they 
        want this time?"

        ***

        "So, let me make sure I've got this. You," Methos pointed to Wesley, 
        "Are an ex-Watcher from the Slayer division, you-" then Cordelia, "-are 
        an aspiring actress with prophetic visions of the future from The Powers 
        That Be and," he paused looking at Gunn. "What's your role in this 
        again?"

        "I'm the local help."

        With a sigh, Methos leaned back in his chair. All he'd wanted was a 
        little peace, a little quiet. He didn't see why it was so much to ask. 
        Well, all right, maybe the whole atoning for past trespasses thing made 
        it a little much, but this. How many times did they expect him to come 
        running to their beck and call. It wasn't as though they'd ever lowered 
        themselves to speak with him in person.

        "Didn't I just go through this with MacLeod?" he asked the group even 
        though he knew they had no clue what he was talking about. "End of the 
        world, apocalypse, destruction, death, evil reigning for ever and ever. 
        How many times do we have to go through this before everyone figures out 
        it isn't going to end that way. Not with a bang but a whimper."

        Wesley glanced at the other two and looked back at Methos in confusion. 
        "I'm sorry..."

        Holding up a hand Methos leaned forward. "So your friend, Angel," he 
        paused over the name. How pretentious. "Where can I find him, since 
        apparently I've been selected to help train him for the oncoming battle 
        of evil?"

        "That's part of the problem. He doesn't want any help, that's why he 
        left. He's not very sociable lately."

        Cordelia snorted. "Yeah, Angel and personable are about as far apart as 
        you can get. He's been extra special broody lately."

        Methos let his head drop into his hands. That was absolutely the last 
        thing he needed, a tall, brooding, insufferable... "He's not Scottish is 
        he?"

        The three exchanged glances.

        "Um, no. Irish actually." Wesley looked as though he were about to ask 
        if Methos was feeling all right.

        "Perfect." He stood. "Could I have the address please?" There was no use 
        postponing things. Maybe he would be able to take care of things quickly 
        and be on his way again. And spend the next hundred years living on top 
        of a pole in the middle of the desert so he wouldn't get these kinds of 
        messages anymore.

        ***

        Methos stood in front of the large hotel gazing up at the overwhelming 
        structure and wondering what it was that possessed people to live in 
        places that large. Space was all well and good, but it also meant the 
        possibility of having unwanted visitors. 

        Imagining the man would more than likely not answer the door from what 
        he'd heard of him already Methos tried the front door and found it 
        locked. He pulled a set of lock picks from his pocket and 
        surreptitiously when to work on the door. Within moments he had the door 
        opened and was inside the spacious old hotel.

        It was more or less as he expected from what he'd seen of the outside 
        and heard of Angel's tastes. Open spaces, dark rich furniture that had 
        seen better days, it all made up an interesting picture of his new 
        student. He'd be very very surprised if he didn't have to actually fight 
        the other man to convince him he needed the help. This was why he'd 
        given up teaching. So often the ones being taught didn't pay attention.

        And then they got themselves killed, usually